


A Spark from the Fire in Your Heart

by SmoakingGreenArrow



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoakingGreenArrow/pseuds/SmoakingGreenArrow
Summary: 6x18 speculation fic. Oliver hallucinates, lashing out at Felicity and William in his frustration. Diaz and Black Siren make moves against Oliver, and John and Lyla come in to help.





	A Spark from the Fire in Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is somewhat spec for 6x18 based on spoilers and the promo, and a bit of my muse doing her thing. I have no idea what this episode is going to hold, but I'm excited and I hope y’all still enjoy this fic! Also, I’m not sure if Oliver’s hallucinations are easy to follow in brains that are not mine, so if Felicity Smoak says things to Oliver Queen that you think she’d never say, it might not be as real as Oliver thinks it is...

Being alone was nothing new. He knew solitude better than most, but he’d grown used to not having to work alone. It was strange to think about what his life had been like before his family, before the team...but the thoughts were there, in his head, as everyone in his life seemed to be walking away from him one by one.

Dinah, Rene, and Curtis had left. And he’d been fine with that. He’d allowed them to walk away because they were capable of making their own decisions, and he didn’t want people in his life or on his team who didn’t want to be there. There hadn’t been anything else to say.

John leaving was a harder pill to swallow, but still, he hadn’t argued. He’d let Dig do what he needed to do. But the words has stung, and the only thing holding him together was Felicity.

She had always been there for him, even when he wasn’t hers to take care of. When he didn’t deserve her. When he’d given her every reason to walk away, she’d stayed. And they’d persevered.

Yet it was hard not to worry. Something old and anxious inside of him was creeping out of the grave Oliver had buried it in. Dig and the team had chosen to leave, and it was hard to convince himself that he was right, that he was a good leader, when four of his trusted teammates were adamant that he wasn’t.

John had spoken to him as if he was still the man on the island. Still the shell of a person who had first come home. 

The man on the island did  _not_ deserve Felicity Smoak. She already knew as much, it was why she’d left him before, wasn’t it? Because she thought that lonely and empty man was his default, someone who could never fully trust her. He’d spent years working to give her the kind of love she deserved, and he finally had a sense of peace knowing that he truly was good enough for her. Knowing that she knew it, too. She had his trust, as she always did. And she had his love. She had all of it. 

But with Diggle’s words as fresh in his mind as the blows they’d inflicted on each other, it was hard not to wonder...would she see in him whatever it was that caused Curtis, Dinah, Rene, and Diggle to leave? They were her friends too...and he’d somehow scared them all away. Did part of her blame him for that? How long until she left him, too?

The sound of her sighing in his ear dragged him out of his pity. It was a tiny noise, one he knew she didn’t mean for him to hear. But when he was in the field, he was just as tuned in to her on the comms as he was to the threats in front of him. “What’s wrong?” He whispered.

His wife whimpered again, “it doesn’t look like Diaz or his men are in the building. Why don’t we call it good? Come back?”

“I need to do a sweep, honey,” he mumbled back, trying to soothe the anxiety in her voice. “We blew up a building where Diaz was making Vertigo. We need to be certain that there’s nothing worth coming back for.”

“Be careful,” she grumbled with another sigh. “I don’t like you being out there alone.”

Oliver made his way into the collapsed building, checking to make sure that the explosion had done the irreparable damage they’d intended, now that the smoke had cleared. He moved as quickly as possible, anxious to get back, wanting to stay on Felicity’s good side.

When he came out empty handed, he let her know that he was on his way, closing his eyes when he heard her sigh of relief.

 

* * *

 

The next night, she pleaded with him not to hit the streets. His impeachment was looming, ever eye in the city was on him, and he didn’t have backup. Every point she made was absolutely valid. But he couldn’t shake the need to be out there. “You’re risking it all, Oliver...if you put that hood on.”

“I can handle it, Felicity,” he argued softly, his heart tearing him in two directions, one telling him to stay put, to keep the woman he loved happy and safe, but the other side of him was fighting, pulling him towards his mask, a desire to prove to himself and to his old teammates that he could be a leader...a hero. It was an impossible choice, but Felicity made it for him.

She dropped her hands from his arms, pursing her lips as she stepped back. “Okay. I know better than to try to change your mind. Go.”

Oliver stepped towards her as she turned to her computers, getting ready to start up her monitors so she could watch out for him, protect him as she always had. “Felicity,” he whispered, catching her hand. He squeezed it, waiting for her to turn around. This wasn’t her usual concern for him when he was out in the field and she was in the bunker. His wife was  _afraid_. “You’re right.”

Her eyebrows shot up, reminding him how very little he told her those words, even though they were usually true. He nodded, stepping closer to her and guiding her arms to wrap around his neck. He pressed his forehead against hers, “you’re right,” he whispered again, rubbing her nose with his own as he sighed. “It’s not a good idea. Let’s pack up what you need, pick up a pizza on the way home, and work from the apartment. We can monitor everything from there, and maybe I’ll even revoke your video game ban and let you and William for a while. As long as you don’t get too obsessed with it and ignore me again,” he teased. “I’m needy.”

A smile slid across her face, “I love you,”

Hearing those words made the compromise worth it. “I love you, too.”

Her phone started to ring just as he kissed her, but she ignored it, gripping him tighter when he loosened his hold on her, expecting her to reach for the interruption.

Well if she wasn’t going to acknowledge it... he opened his mouth for her happily, moving his tongue against hers and smiling when he heard a familiar, alluring noise from the back of her throat. She started pushing him back, towards her chair, and he chuckled because they’d tried this before...and learned the hard way, more than once, that her chair was  _not_ compatible with sex.

Felicity shoved him down to sit anyway, climbing onto his lap and kissing him again before he could remind her of the last time...when he’d almost let her fall off the chair by accident, barely catching her as they’d lost their balance. But she started rocking her hips against him, and he forgot all about the last time.

Her phone started ringing again, and she huffed out a breath of annoyance, not moving her lips from his. He gently pulled her phone out of her back pocket, slowly opening one eye to see that it was Curtis, immediately cursing his curiosity.

Curtis really didn’t call these days unless it was important. “Felicity,” he groaned, drawing his lips away from hers. Oliver answered it, “what’s up, Curtis?” He tried to ask casually, both because of the situation of his wife’s lips on his neck, and the awkward air that still hung between him and his old friends.

“Oliver?” Curtis blurted, confused. “Is Felicity okay?”

“Yeah,” Oliver gasped, hauling away from Felicity’s mouth as she focused on his ear... “She’s right here. Everything okay?”

“No,” Curtis sighed, “Diaz is holding up the Mayor’s office with his crooked cops. It looks like he’s finally making his public move against you.” Felicity froze, and Oliver knew that she could hear Curtis. “Dinah’s there...and I’m waiting for Zoe’s classmate’s mom to show up and take her for the night, so I won’t be able to get there right away, and I’d say that desperate times call for desperate measures, but this whole city has been desperate for way too long-”

“Curtis-” Oliver interrupted, “I’ll be right there.”

Hanging up, he stood, picking Felicity up with him and setting her on her feet. “Oliver,” she started, her back stiffening, “don’t.”

He was already moving towards his suit, “I have to, Felicity. You heard Curtis. If I get Diaz, this is all done.”

“You  _can’t_ go there alone.” She argued, coming closer.

Oliver held his hands up, there really wasn’t time for this. “Dinah is there. Curtis is on his way. i have you. I won’t be alone. Call John, even...I’m sure he’ll make an exception if you tell him that Diaz is at city hall, Felicity.”

She bit her lip, turning for her computers just as she had before, the same expression on her face, and he closed his eyes, feeling like they were right back in the argument they’d been in...before he’d agreed not to put on his hood tonight. 

Things had clearly changed, though. She was just too worried about him to see that yet, but he didn’t have the time to convince her that he should go. That he needed to be there.

So he left.

 

* * *

 

Listening to the fights was always the worst part. They were too many steps behind Diaz, he had too much power, and he’d already cut off the cameras in City Hall, leaving Felicity with only Oliver’s comm to go by. Without a visual or thermal imaging, she always felt lost. A fish out of water, all she could do was sit and listen and hope for the best.

Diaz was there to wage war on the police force, using his own crooked officers, but the fighting didn’t start until Oliver showed up. Like they were waiting for him. Death and panic were the sole goals of the attack, and she was irritated that her experienced, brilliant, careful husband was too emotional to see the reality. From the sound of the fight, he was doing okay, but it didn’t mean he needed to be there in the first place. There was a reason Diaz brought the fight to Oliver’s office, forcing him to show up as The Green Arrow in the building where he worked as the Mayor.

Diaz knew that if he took City Hall, Oliver would show up in his green suit instead of his dress suit. He was messing with her husband, and Oliver had walked right into it, giving Diaz exactly what he’d wanted. 

She was thankful that John and Lyla had agreed to help, recruiting some volunteer A.R.G.U.S agents as well. And she did her best to stay quiet so she wouldn’t distract Oliver, listening for over an hour as Diaz’s men went up against a handful of government agents and a divided team that didn’t trust one another.

Eventually, Oliver spoke to her, letting her know that it was over and he was okay. Diaz had gotten away, but Lyla had some of his men in custody. Felicity knew that leaving A.R.G.U.S to handle the dirty cops was probably their best shot at getting close to Dragon. If anyone could make a criminal talk, it was Lyla.

Noticing that it was almost William’s bed time, she told her husband that she’d meet him at home, wanting at least one of them to be there in time to say goodnight. But they also both knew that she was avoiding the inevitable disagreement they’d been having just before he left. The one where he was irrationally putting himself in danger, jumping into harm’s way without a second thought for the sake of proving himself. For his pride. Losing the team and being alone should have made him more cautious and hesitant, yet it seemed to be driving him to compensate, which was leading to riskier decisions. And not just with his life, although that was her main frustration, but he had also risked exposing himself as The Green Arrow. For all they knew, that was Dragon’s plan. In fact, it probably was, he had highly decorated officials in his pocket...maybe he swayed a certain FBI agent to focus her time and energy on exposing Oliver’s identity.

It was so unlike him to run in headfirst; the opposite of the careful, calculated man she trusted every night in the field...that she didn’t even know what to do with it. What to say.

William was asleep by the time he came in, and she raised her eyebrows from her place on the couch. She’d left the bunker half an hour ago, expecting him to come home right behind her, as soon as he changed out of his leathers. But he’d obviously been doing some avoiding himself. Oliver sighed as he collapsed onto the couch beside her, closing his eyes.

Felicity pursed her lips, fighting against herself and her damn need to fill silence. For once, she wanted him to speak first, to know what he had to say without her prompting him. So they sat in silence. Nearly ten minutes passed, and he opened his eyes eventually, glancing at her quickly before inspecting the ceiling. She could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to come up with  _something_. And it only made her cheeks flush. He didn’t regret his decision to go after Diaz blind, on impulse, and without backup.

She nodded to herself, her foot tapping with anxiety rising in her throat. And anger. He had nothing to say, so she let out a deep breath, “are you okay?” She asked, her voice low and detached, even to her own ears. His eyes shifted to her face, and she stared back. His eyebrows furrowed, trying to read her, and she held her breath, not wanting to say anything she’d regret. Oliver nodded in reply, and she stood up, heading for the bedroom.

“Felicity...” he called after her gently, making her stop. She wasn’t happy with him, but she’d always love and protect him. He knew that. 

But the way he was looking at her said the opposite. 

She watched him drag a hand over the hair on his face, “I love you. But this is how things are now. I’m going to have to go out there alone, and you need to get used to it.”

Staring at him for another moment, she let out a disbelieving breath. Even when he was too stubborn to apologize, he at least understood her. He always knew that she was just worried about his safety. Because she always was. As he held her gaze, she saw more of the man she’d first met; guarded and sitting stiff, as if he was prepared for an attack, as if it was him against the world. He looked at  _her_ like that, and she had no idea what she’d done to provoke it. He’d let her into his heart a long time ago, but they needed a breather before either of them said something they’d regret. 

The look on his face caught her by surprise. After a few moments of tense silence, she finally whispered, “goodnight Oliver.” And closed their bedroom door behind her.

 

* * *

 

Waking up on the couch after being too much of a wuss to follow his wife to their bed, Oliver only had two thoughts; his back hurt and he missed her. He couldn’t remember the dream he’d had, but he knew it must have been bad because he  _ached_ , which meant it’d been a restless night on his body.

His day only got worse after finally opening their bedroom door to find the room empty, a note on the dresser letting him know that she was at the bunker. And then it took a turn for the worst when he went to work and spent the entire day dealing with impeachment logistics and probabilities, as well as the repercussions for firing his District Attorney and Police Captain.

He didn’t regret the decision, obviously...but the backlash gave him a headache that he really didn’t want to deal with. Knowing that Felicity was at the bunker, still upset with him and probably trying to distract herself with work, was driving him crazy. By midday, his office felt like a cage, and he was an animal trapped inside, pacing in front of his desk as his lawyer reprimanded his poor timing for letting Armand and Hill go.

As the day passed by, he started remembering bits and pieces of his dream from the night before. At every free moment, whenever his mind was idle, he’d get glimpses of it. The dream was laced with his real memory; of Felicity being shot by Damien Darhk’s ghosts.

In it, he was hunting down the ghosts, looking for Darhk while Felicity laid in a hospital bed, hurting, without him. He eventually built up the courage to face her, when it finally hit him that she wasn’t going to make a full recovery...that she’d never be the same, and she needed him.

It was such a vivid and realistic dream, and the way it came back to him throughout the day was disorienting, making him question more than once what had really happened two years ago, and what was part of the dream. 

His lawyer was sitting across his desk when the last snippet of Oliver’s dream came back to him. The man was leaning forward to warn him, but Oliver barely heard the words, “you can’t afford to be making waves. We both know it’s only a matter of time before someone else ends up dead in this town. And they’ll say it’s your fault, Mr. Mayor.”

Felicity’s voice rang through his brain, and he saw a flash of her in the hospital bed, lying there weak and confused as to why the man who was supposed to be strong and supportive had chosen to hide from her for days. He’d hung his head in shame, and she’d offered him an out, telling him that she understood; he hadn’t signed up to marry a paralyzed woman. She gave him the option to leave without having to feel guilty. And he’d pulled the ring out, bewildered that she would even  _think_ along those lines.

Then he’d offered the ring to her. And she’d stared at him, shaking her head, “I know what a future with you would be, Oliver. You think, after all of this, I’d still want to marry you? You got me shot and then abandoned me. Take the out I’m offering, save yourself some pain.” She told him, not moving to take her ring back, to take his promise to love her forever... But no, she  _had_ taken it back. She’d put the ring on, and they’d been okay, they’d been happy. At least for a while. So why could he so  _vividly_ hear her saying those words? Why could her picture her face so clearly as she said them, on that very same day?

The dream twisted with reality, and he was suddenly, for a brief moment, so very  _sure_ that Felicity had refused to put her ring back on. Refused to marry him. “I’ve seen our future, Oliver,” she’d said coldly. “We both know that it’s only a matter of time before I end up dead. Because of you.”

Falling into the chair in his office, Oliver gripped his desk, shaking his head to clear a moment of absolute dread, to get rid of the flashes of a dream that felt more like a memory. It wasn’t real. It didn’t happen like that. She’d never said that.

She’s never said  _anything_ like that. 

Yet the dream was intense, probably rooted in his fears, his insecurities, and his current frustrations. He sighed, dismissing his lawyer and promising to have his head in the game tomorrow.

And then he grabbed his coat and went to the bunker, just as the sun was setting. He needed to see her. God, he needed to see her. It’d been way too long.

He jogged down the steps two at a time, too impatient to wait for the elevator. He didn’t feel relief until he saw Felicity, hovering over her computers. She glanced up as he came in, her lips pulling up in a small smile as if she’d missed him today, too.

Crossing the room to reach her, he pulled her into a hug immediately. “Hi,” he breathed, gripping her tightly.

She exhaled, and he could literally  _feel_ the tension leaving her body. “Hi,” she whispered back, her arms winding around his neck.

“I was an ass last night.”

She nodded in agreement, and he laughed breathlessly, knowing that she was never one to sugar coat her opinions. It was one of the reasons he loved her so damn much. He was reminded of another reason as she pulled back to look up at him, smiling softly. Her eyes conveyed how much she  _cared_. “I probably could have been a little less dramatic,” she offered, and he smiled as she pouted. Felicity was also never one to put all the blame on him. Even if she was right. Even if he should have listened to her and been more careful, she still found a way to make him feel a little better. To find common ground.

Seeing the expression on his face, she nudged him, “maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe?” He mumbled back, raising an eyebrow and grinning down at her, leaning down to press his lips to hers.

She scrunched her nose at him, shaking her head as they both laughed, the sound of his own relief leaving his body. He kissed her again, “I love you, Felicity,” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to hers. “I love you so much.”

“Is it really enough, though?” She asked coldly, “are  _you_ enough?”

Oliver jerked his head back, his eyes darting to hers. “What did you say?”

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking up at him, “I said I love you, too...are you okay?”

Shaking his head, trying to clear it, Oliver held on to her hips a little tighter, sighing. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. It’s just been a weird day.”

“You’re probably exhausted,” she said, carding her fingers through his hair, making him hum as he leaned into her touch. “You didn’t have to sleep on the couch last night.”

He shrugged, “I’m happy to give you space when you need it, rather than lose you.”

Felicity shook her head, placing her hands on either side of his cheeks. “What’s gotten into you?” She murmured, “I’m not going anywhere. Please tell me you know that.”

Closing his eyes, he sighed, “I know, I know.”

As he opened his eyes to look at her, he could still see and feel the concern rolling off of her, but he wasn’t sure what to do to console it for her any more than he did for himself. Her hands rubbed across his neck and shoulders, soothing him in that completely  _Felicity_ way. 

His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at her in apology as he answered another Curtis-interrupting call.

“Diaz is hiding out in a warehouse on Sixth. In the Glades. Dinah and I are on our way there now. We talked, and we thought an extra set of eyes, ears, and hands couldn’t hurt.” 

Oliver pursed his lips, trying not to be petty enough to point out that as the one who taught both of them how to use their eyes, ears, and hands in the field, he was hardly an  _extra_.

Felicity rolling her eyes eased the annoyance that bubbled inside him, clearly his wife agreed. “I’ll meet you there.” He hung up and this time, took the moment to make sure his partner was on the same page. “Are you okay with...”

She squeezed his shoulders, “they found Diaz’s hideout. Getting the jump on him is not the same thing as walking into a trap set for you, Oliver. Curtis and Dinah are prepared now. They want you to go, so...just make sure they have  _your_ back as much as they have each other’s, okay?”

He nodded, taking in every word. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Be careful!” She called out to him as he went to put his hood on. And he changed in record time, kissing her cheek as he hurried to meet Dinah and Curtis.

Of course, Diaz got away again. He had too many connections to be taken down in a surprise visit by three vigilantes. Most of his men scattered, but the few who they’d detained were closer to Dragon than any of their previous arrests. They might be able to actually get some answers out of them.

Oliver stood on a rooftop with Curtis and Dinah, watching as the police arrested the men, shoving them into the backseats of their cruisers. Curtis was the first to speak. “Are we going to talk about...um, you know.”

“Laurel?” Dinah spat, “are we really that surprised?”

Oliver’s head snapped towards them. “You saw her, too?”

They both stared at him for a long moment. And then Curtis spoke, “did we see Black Siren running off with Diaz when we showed up?” He stared at Oliver incredulously, “yeah, Oliver...we saw that, too...”

“What kind of question is that?” Dinah demanded, narrowing her eyes up at him.

Oliver hesitated, not wanting to explain that he’d seen Black Siren...but at first he’d thought he was seeing  _Laurel_. A ghost. 

He hadn’t been completely sure if the flash of black leather and blonde hair retreating out of the door was real or not until they mentioned it. 

“Dinah,” Oliver chose to change the subject instead, ready to tell her exactly what to do, an order, but then he thought better of it. “Do you think you can get something out of them in an interrogation? Preferably before Diaz gets them released from custody?” He  _asked_ instead.

She nodded, “I’ll do everything I can.”

Curtis’ phone buzzed, and he checked it. “Rene wants us at the hospital ASAP. He said it’s important, and he can’t say it over the phone.”

Biting his tongue as he followed Dinah and Curtis to the hospital was the cherry on top of an impossibly hard and exhausting day. Because once again, his old teammates were working with their hearts rather than their heads.  _Oliver_ knew that questioning Diaz’s men was the priority. If they wanted to get any answers, it had to be done now, before Diaz could bail them out.

But Curtis and Dinah saw things differently. Seeing Rene was their focus, and he had a hard time understanding  _why_. Just like most of their decisions lately. The two of them had shared a look when Oliver insisted on coming. They all knew Rene, and they knew he’d most likely throw a fit over Oliver’s presence. But he really didn’t care. If Dinah insisted on stopping to see Rene, then he had to make damn sure that those men were questioned before Diaz got his hands on them. And that meant making sure Dinah put her badge back on and got to the precinct first.

He followed their van on his bike, turning his comm on to talk to Felicity through the ride. She babbled in his ear about priorities, and he was happy to sit back on his seat and listen, focusing his mind on her words and her voice instead of the strange things he’d been experiencing all day.

When they arrived at Rene’s room, Oliver was greeted with the tense silence he’d expected. So he just stared back, keeping quiet and staying off to the side as he watched the three of them, feeling out of place in a room full of people he’d once trusted with his life. “What’s going on?” Curtis broke the silence, opting to push forward, thankfully, instead of address the hatred flowing from Rene.

They kept their voices low so they wouldn’t catch the attention of the hospital’s staff. Rene finally glanced away from Oliver, who met his fiery stare with an unemotional calm, and to Curtis. “Lance was here earlier today.” His eyes flickered to Oliver, “I almost didn’t say anything at all after what he did to me.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, sighing and deciding not to waste his breath. Rene chose to ignore his own part in the fight that led to his injury; the bullets he’d fired off at his wife, sister, and friend. The ax he’d swung with intention, at  _him_. None of that mattered, it was apparently all Oliver’s fault. One moment he was happy to ignore Rene’s annoying bravado, but the next he felt his blood boiling with unexpected rage. He had to bite his tongue until he tasted blood to stop himself from making matters worse. And he had no idea where the anger was coming from. He’d been  _fine_ just a moment ago.

“But I want it off my conscience. So I figured you two could do whatever you thought was right with the information.”

“What do you have?” Dinah prompted, glancing behind her at Oliver, her eyes narrowing at the bubbling anger written all over his face and body.

“Lance stopped by this afternoon. He brought Laurel. Lance went to get coffee, and she stepped out into the hallway to make a phone call,” he explained, nodding at the door. “I heard some of it.”

“Diaz?” Curtis prompted. “We almost just got him. Laurel was there. We know she’s working with him.”

“I heard something else. She was talking to Dragon about Vertigo. I think they still have a stash, or a way to make more, or something. I didn’t hear all of it, but they have some kind of plan.”

Oliver was fuming, wondering why Rene had sat on this all day. No, he knew. It was out of spite.

“If they still have Vertigo, it can’t be much. They wouldn’t waste it on random deals. They wouldn’t sell it. They’re going to use it against us.” Dinah said, surprising Oliver when she turned and looked at him, spoke to  _him_. Like he was included in any kind of  _us_. Maybe it was just habit, especially since they were still in their masks. But Dinah’s eyes met his as if she was waiting for some kind of guidance or answers. He softened a bit at that, letting hope fill his chest that maybe she still saw him as someone who could help. Someone  _good_. Curtis seemed surprised, and Rene agitated, but Dinah kept her eyes on Oliver. He just didn’t know what to say.

“That’s not all,” Rene clipped from his hospital bed, getting their attention again. “Lance left his phone behind, and Laurel took it. She knows his password, she got right into it.”

“So?” Curtis asked, glancing between all of them as Rene fidgeted, and Dinah and Oliver stiffened. 

Before either of them could answer, Oliver was moving, causing Curtis and Dinah to react, holding him back as he descended on Rene. He let them, choosing, for now, to yell instead of punch. “She has the codes and you didn’t tell us until now!?”

Lance kept the security codes to the bunker on his phone. If Black Siren had access to it...she had access to the bunker, and god only knew what that could mean. Dinah shoved him, and they were both slightly stunned when he actually skidded across the floor, his back slamming into the wall a few feet away. But he just didn’t have the energy to fight. His body felt off, yet his head felt wild with rage.

“Felicity is down there  _alone..._ constantly! She’s there right now you stupid-” Oliver inhaled sharply, “my  _son_ spends time down there.” He seethed, glaring at Rene, “and you didn’t tell me that Diaz could sneak in there whenever he wants until right now?” His voice was shaking with resentment, “How  _dare_ you?”

“How dare  _I_?” Rene fired back, sitting up as he raised his eyebrows, looking for a fight and animated now that he was getting it. “How dare  _you_ , Oliver?”

“You’re unbelievable.” Oliver breathed, because it truly was. An illogical riff with  _him_ was one thing. But to wait all day to tell him, knowing that Black Siren, and consequently Diaz, have had a way to get to Felicity and William when they’d be vulnerable, when none of them would be expecting it...especially if they had the codes, they could come in and Felicity wouldn’t even be alerted by the alarms. It was unforgivable.

“Almost as unbelievable as putting your own teammates under surveillance,” Curtis muttered, and Oliver shoved off the wall, forcing Dinah to step between him and  _both_ Rene and Curtis. 

“Shut up,” she snapped at Curtis before looking up at Oliver curiously. He settled again, stopping in his tracks as she pushed back, even though they both knew he could take them all down in just a few moments. “Rene, you’re an idiot. And you,” she pointed up at Oliver, “for once, I’m not saying you’re wrong. But you need to  _calm down_.”

He nodded once, more willing to back down than any of them were expecting. But he just felt  _tired_. And somehow Dinah was becoming a voice of reason. The same person he’d been butting heads with more than the others suddenly felt like the one who was on his side. Seeing that he was relaxing, she nodded to herself. “I need to get to the precinct. Oliver, why don’t you come with me? Curtis, you go check on Felicity.”

“Blondie can handle herself,” Rene provoked, as if he wanted Oliver to punch him in the face, simply because the man had been bored in that hospital room for too long. “Curtis and I will get started on finding Laurel and Diaz.” 

Oliver stepped forward again, happy to give Rene what he seemed to be looking for, but Dinah stopped him again, with a little more effort this time. “Rene,” she sighed, sounding like an exhausted parent.

“No,” Oliver snapped, stepping back. “All of you have made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with me. So I don’t expect your help any more than you expect mine. Nor do I want it. Do what you have to do.” He pushed through the door, heading straight for the bunker. For Felicity.

 

* * *

 

William was spinning in her chair, staring up at the ceiling and making himself dizzy while they waited for Oliver to get back. She’d already told him that his dad was okay and they could meet him at home, but William liked being the first thing Oliver saw when he walked into the bunker...just as much as Felicity did. 

It had occurred to her, years ago, that sometimes Oliver had incredibly hard nights, and he’d come back to an empty foundry with no one to talk to about it. She’d started waiting up for him after that, and she liked to think that whenever the elevator doors opened and his eyes found her, that he was able to breathe a little easier. She sure was.

“Are you sure my dad’s okay?”

Felicity sighed, “Yeah, I’m sure,” she bit her lip, trying to force a smile as William stopped his spinning to look at her. He’d sounded as weird on the phone as he had all day. And she knew that something must have happened at the hospital with Rene. “He just had to stop and talk to some people.”

“The team?” William asked, and Felicity nodded, promising again that Oliver was fine.

Her stepson glanced at her as if he didn’t believe it, and she couldn’t really blame him. Luckily they silently agreed to wait until they saw Oliver before they got  _too_ worried.

When they heard the elevator doors opening a few minutes later, Felicity started moving towards them, and William stood. She let out a breath of relief as she saw Oliver coming in, standing on two feet with only the usual scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious.

His mask was hanging around his neck, his hood pushed back, and he was rubbing his fingers against his temples, walking out of the elevator and looking up at them. He saw Felicity first, a tired and sad expression staring back at her. But then he noticed William and his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?” His voice was way too low and severe to be speaking to anyone besides the criminals he beat up.

“It’s Raisa’s night off.” Felicity blurted, taken aback by his harsh tone. She hardly heard it anymore, and she was sure that he’d  _never_ spoken to William that way. “I told you I might have to bring him here tonight, Oliver.”

“I thought Jack’s mom was going to take him.” Oliver snapped back, turning his anger on her now.

William and Felicity shared a look, one where she really tried to express that Oliver’s temper wasn’t about William. William scrunched up his nose, “I didn’t want to go to Jack’s.”

“It’s not about what you  _want_ , William! You shouldn’t be here!” Oliver yelled, his eyes scanning the bunker as he came up the steps towards them. “Black Siren is still working with Diaz and she stole Lance’s access code. It’s not safe, Felicity. Why didn’t you tell me he was coming down here?”

Felicity snorted, “she’s gotten in here without a code,” she reminded him, and he pursed his lips in irritation. She worked very hard to keep their security above adequate. It was insulting that Black Siren would just scream and destroy the tech. But it’d happened before.

“I know that,” he said slowly, as if he was trying very hard not to yell again. And it made her back stiffen. “But with the codes, she can come and go whenever she wants and we wouldn’t even know it. She could sneak up on you, and you’d have no idea she was even in here.  _Diaz_ could come down here.”

Frowning, she realized his point. Then her eyes darted up to the cameras courtesy of Cayden James. She’d been able to disable them, but they hadn’t taken them down. Partly because they’d been busy, but after Cayden’s death, she was also watching to see if anyone tried to get them back up.

Nudging by William, she sat in her chair, pulling herself to her desk. “I can see if the cameras have been turned on. Actually, with the systems Cayden was using...even if they weren’t on...I might be able to find footage from the past few days.”

Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed, “from cameras that have been off for months?”

She shrugged, giving him a look, “it’s Cayden James. I wouldn’t be surprised if an on button is just a suggestion for those cameras. The guy turned everything with a charge in this city into a weapon.”

“Yeah,” William said from behind her, “but The Green Arrow stopped him.” She glanced back at him as she typed, taking in the pride on his face. William looked at his father, “you stopped him, dad. You stop all the bad guys. And I know you can stop Richard Dragon, too.”

They hadn’t told William too much about Diaz, just enough so that he could recognize him and know to get as far away as he could if he ever saw him. But they did their best not to scare William with it. 

It was a fine line between making sure the son of The Green Arrow was safe and informed, and treating him like the kid that he was, especially after everything he’d already seen and experienced.

Felicity continued to type, waiting for Oliver’s comforting affirmation to his son. When it didn’t come, she glanced back at her husband, seeing his head bowed. She turned in her chair, trying to figure out what would cause the shame and distress she saw on his face. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he finally mumbled, barely audible. “I failed you. You’re-you’re right. I can’t stop Diaz, and I couldn’t stop Adrian Chase.”

“Oliver,” Felicity hissed, more surprised than anything. They’d agreed not to mention Chase, or the boat, that had taken months of therapy for William to work through. The boy was finally getting his life back to normal, accepting it and finding some happiness, so she had no idea what would compel his father to bring up the traumatic scene he’d witnessed on that boat. She stared at Oliver, meeting his wide-eyed gaze. “William said you  _can_ stop Diaz. You will.  _We_ will.” She stood up, forgetting the cameras for a moment because her husband was doing that kicked puppy thing with his face.

She dropped her voice, trying to be discreet but knowing that William could probably hear. “What’s going on with you?” She asked, her arms winding around his neck. “You’re William’s hero, he can tell that you’re upset and he just wants to make you feel better.”

Oliver’s eyes flashed, and then he was pushing her arms away and stepping back. “I don’t need a lecture about my son, Felicity.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “wow. Okay. Let’s just relax for a second, here...”

But he was already moving on. “I’m not a hero, William. The life that I lead should be the  _last_ thing you look up to. If you think this is heroic,” he held his arms up, gesturing around the bunker as if it was empty, as if they weren’t even there, “then you need to grow up.” He gestured to himself now, “I’m a monster. Just like you said when you first came to live with me. I’m the bad man, right?”

“Dad...”

“Oliver,” Felicity interrupted sharply, stepping towards him again, grabbing his chin and making him look at her, “stop it,” she shook her head, at a loss. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

He laughed; a sharp, singular sound without a trace of humor. “You’re not his mother, Felicity.” He said it as a fact. Unemotional. And he pushed her hands away again. Of course, factually, he wasn’t wrong. But the way he said it made her feel like he was really saying ‘you’re not his mother, Felicity, therefore you don’t matter in this conversation at all.’

“What is wrong with you!?” She finally snapped, her heart sinking into her stomach.

Suddenly, it was like the sharpness of her voice, her loud voice, brought him back to reality. His eyes darted to hers, widening “I’m sorry,” he blurted, “I don’t...I don’t know why I said that, honey.” He gripped his forehead in his palm, squeezing his eyes shut as his family stared at him in bewilderment, “I didn’t mean it...” He frowned at the lame excuse.

And it was lame. Felicity glanced at William, who had become quiet and stiff. The sight of him made her bite her tongue. Confrontation, especially yelling, still made her stepson anxious. Hell, it made  _her_ anxious. “Look,” she said tiredly, “I think you need to take some space, Oliver. You stay here and get some sleep. I can call Lance to come chat about the codes and what you want to do about it. But...I think I should take William home.”

Oliver’s eyes widened in panic. “Felicity...don’t talk like that.”

She stared at him, confused for the millionth time that day. “It’s okay, Oliver... everything’s going to be okay.” She could see the desperation in his gaze. Knowing he needed comfort, she second guessed if he should be alone at all, even for the twenty minutes it’d take for Lance to get there. Something was off, and it had been for a while. “I love you.” She told him.

He nodded once, and she felt slightly relieved, thinking that he understood. But then his eyes teared up, and he looked down at his feet, “please, Felicity...” he begged, “don’t go.”

She moved towards him, “I’m just going home...” she whispered, her heart breaking as his voice broke in a sob. “What is going  _on_ with you?” She asked, trying to get him to look at her, but he wouldn’t. He  _couldn’t_.

The strange day was hard to piece together. Impossible, even. Oliver picked up her left hand, looking down at her fingers. He inhaled sharply, his eyes lifting to hers, absolute  _heartbreak_ in his eyes that made her heart hurt. She was more baffled than before. Breathless. “I deserve this, I know that. But  _please_ , Felicity. I know I don’t have a right to ask, but  _please_.”

He was desperate. Begging. Pleading with her like he never had before. She’d never seen him beg or plead for anything, actually. And she had no idea what he was even talking about. Whatever it was, she would give it to him, because god, the sound of his voice was haunting. Her husband sighed, staring down at her hand again, held tightly in his, squeezing her ring into her fingers painfully. “I  _need_ you to put it back on.”

“Put what back on?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowing. 

The whole day had been a mystery. And this conversation had done nothing but make her worry about what happening to him. 

It wasn’t until his response that everything clicked. “Your ring,” he breathed, “you’re still my wife, and even if I’m losing you...just, please. Not yet. Please put it back on, Felicity.”

Her heart sank into her stomach. 

The irritability, the irrationality, the confusing conversations where he seemed to be hearing different words than what she’d been saying... it all snapped into focus as she came to the realization. He was hallucinating. The word filled her heart with fear, “Oh no,” she breathed, pulling away and running for her computer.

The hidden footage from the camera was up, and she gave herself one more glance at her husband and stepson before watching it. Oliver’s hands were on his face, scrubbing over it as his shoulders fell, and William watched his dad with concern. Felicity hit play, scrolling through the footage and checking the later hours of the night and early hours of the morning, when the bunker would be empty.

It took her a moment, but she finally saw Black Siren, and Felicity’s stomach was in knots as she watched the tape. She’d come in at 2:53am, three nights ago.

William came up behind her to see, but Oliver had sunk onto the couch, staring at his hands with an unreadable but eerie expression on his face. He was calm, but it wasn’t the peaceful and happy calm she’d come to be familiar with. It was his old calm. The cold, detached one.

It sent a shiver down her spine, the way her husband zoned out as if he was somewhere else completely. Which he probably was. But she focused back on her screen, where Black Siren had stopped in front of the glass cases. She’d put her hands behind her back, walking along the displays slowly where all of the suits were lined up. Felicity leaned closer to her screen, waiting for the woman to stop in front of Laurel’s suit. Quentin said she was trying to be more like their late friend...did that involve her retired mask somehow?

Black Siren didn’t stop, though, or even  _glance_ at the Black Canary suit. Instead, she’d stopped in front of Oliver’s case, cocking her head to the side as she looked up at the green leathers. Felicity and William both froze from where they watched. And they saw Black Siren opened the door to his case, pulling a tiny vile from her pocket. “Oh my god,” Felicity breathed, her eyes wide with horror.

Pulling his mask off the mannequin, Black Siren had sprinkled the familiar blue drug onto the inside of Oliver’s mask.  _Days_ ago. He’d worn his suit twice since Black Siren laced the mask with Vertigo. Once to fight Dragon’s men, and then again tonight.

Felicity’s eyes flew to Oliver, jumping up from her seat as her eyes narrowed in on the mask still hanging around his neck. “Take it off!” She screamed, catching his attention, breaking him out of whatever trance he’d been in. His eyes widened with confusion, and then fear as he recognized her own. She was on him in seconds, pulling the mask off of him and throwing it across the floor. 

Felicity leaned over him, inspecting his face. She noted the flush on his cheeks, how warm he felt, his pupils blown wide. He was gripping his finger, right where his ring sat. “No, Felicity,” he mumbled pathetically, making her heart clench with pity at whatever fear was plaguing him. It was obviously something about their marriage, about losing her, but she had no idea how to convince him what was real. “I won’t take it off. I’m your husband.”

She grabbed both of his hands, dragging them to her face, pressing his palms against her cheeks. “Hey,” she said sharply, making sure she had his attention. “Look at me.” His eyes met hers, “I am right here,” she murmured, her words just for him, “you’re sick, Oliver. Black Siren drugged you. Focus on me, okay? You’re going to be fine. I am here. I am  _real_ , and I love you.” She said it slowly, her eyes begging him to hear what she was truly saying instead of what his mind was twisting it to become.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut, a tear rolling down his cheek as he gripped her face. “I’m so sorry I failed you.”

“You haven’t failed me, Oliver. Do you hear me?”

He shook his head in disagreement, “I let him kill you,” he whispered.

Her eyebrows furrowed, “who?”

“Slade,” her husband sighed, blinking, “I couldn’t choose. How was I supposed to choose? How could I ever make that choice?”

“Oliver, what are you-” she froze, realizing what he was talking about. Moira. The night Slade killed her. She spun around to William, “Buddy...call John, please,” she tried to say as calmly as she could.

 

* * *

 

He was chained at his wrists and ankles, waiting for Adrian Chase to tell him whether he would walk away from this, or if he would die on that concrete floor. The damp and cold room was empty, dark until the heavy bolted door opened. “What do you want from me?” Oliver asked before if was even closed.

Adrian came closer, turning on the lights and making him wince. He held up a familiar pair of black framed glasses, and Oliver’s chest tightened as he fought not to react. He couldn’t let Chase know how important Felicity was, but he had her glasses, and his heart was in his throat. 

Grinning, Adrian’s voice was light, teasing as he said quietly, “she didn’t even know I was in her apartment.”

Oliver closed his eyes, letting out a breath of renewed rage, tugging on the chains. “I swear to god, if you hurt her...”

“Don’t worry, Oliver. She’ll be safe as long as you tell me what I want to know.”

Sighing in frustration, Oliver looked at Chase, “I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“Yes, you do.”

The words had finally escaped him, provoked into an exhausted and deranged confession. And as soon as he admitted the truth that Adrian was so sure of, the chains were removed. The doors were left open. And he was free to leave.

But he didn’t go home. He went to his father’s old factory. And he could see it all; the holes in the walls from his practice shooting, the blood stains on the floor from when his mother had shot him, and he’d nearly died there...the night Felicity had saved him. 

He might be a monster, as Chase had shown him, but there had to be  _something_ good in his intentions. Something he’d failed at. Something he could  _change_.

It was time to right his father’s wrongs.

Memories of Felicity flooded back to him. He needed to change. To be what she deserved. He made his way to the locked chest buried under all of the abandoned equipment. Opening it, he pulled out Yao Fei’s hood. 

 

* * *

 

The words he’d mumbled to himself before bolting out of the bunker echoed through her mind, absolute dread sitting in her throat.  _“It’s time to right my father’s wrongs.”_

Felicity had done her best to explain what was happening to John and Lyla when they arrived. And then Dig had gone looking for Oliver, leaving Lyla to watch over William and Felicity in case Oliver came back and wasn’t quite...himself. 

He’d left with his hood down and without his mask, as if his sanity wasn’t troubling enough. The public might be about to see their mayor running around the city in The Green Arrow’s suit. She shook her head, getting to work on checking security and traffic cameras, widening her radius even though she knew he couldn’t have gotten very far in just ten minutes on foot. 

But then again, it was Oliver.

William sat quietly in a chair beside her, and she finished setting up her facial recognition software before she took a moment to reach for his hand. Squeezing it tightly, she smiled at him, putting on her best brave face. “We’re going to find him. And now we know what the problem is. We know how to help him.” She said, even though it was a half-lie. They had no idea what Diaz’s Vertigo could do. Aside from  _seriously_ screwing with your mind. But physically, she truly had no idea. She didn’t know exactly how much of it Laurel had put on his mask, what the prolonged exposure meant, if it made a difference that it had seeped into his skin instead of being injected or ingested. She just didn’t know.

Apparently even a delusional Oliver Queen knew how to outsmart a city full of cameras, though, because as soon as he was out of sight from the bunker’s outdoor surveillance feed, he was gone. All she knew was that he was heading North.

Frustrated, she turned her comm on. “Have you found him?” She snapped at John, part of her blaming him for not being there. Maybe the man who had experience with both drugs and Diaz could have recognized that something was very wrong with Oliver sooner than she did. If he hadn’t have left them.

“No,” Diggle sighed, sounding like he was putting as much blame on himself as she was throwing at him. “Curtis and Dinah are covering the opposite side of the city. We’ll find him.”

She closed her eyes, knowing she was being unfair, but she felt  _stupid_. For the first time in a long time. Her husband had been exposed to Vertigo, changed by it for the last forty eight hours and she hadn’t been able to put it together. He’d been acting different, on edge, basically since he put his mask on...and she’d gotten angry when she should have questioned it. “Fine,” Felicity grumbled at Dig, “let me know if you find anything.”

William leaned forward, staring at the monitors and clenching his fists together. “Where could he have been going? To right his father’s wrongs?”

Felicity hesitated, her eyebrows furrowing. She’d been viewing him as a crazy, delusional loose cannon. That’s how he’d looked just before her ran off, no semblance of  _her_ Oliver in his eyes. But he was still Oliver.  _Some_ version. He was avoiding the cameras. He’d said he needed to right his father’s wrongs. It was the mission he’d started with. There was at least a glimmer of sanity in there that was driving him. Oliver’s hallucinations had taken him back to the beginning...resetting, maybe? Trying to rectify the mistakes he’d made by taking him back to where it all started. “Oh,” she gasped, William and Lyla’s eyes flying to her. “I know where he’s going.”

Jumping out of her chair, she grabbed her purse and keys, pinning Lyla with a glare when the woman tried to stop her, a hand on Felicity’s arm. Lyla huffed, rolling her eyes...because the only way she was going to stop Felicity from leaving was by force, and they both realized it. They were also smart enough to know that Lyla had to stay. With William.

“Where?” Lyla demanded.

“The Queen Industrial Inc. building!” She yelled over her shoulder, “tell Dig to get there as soon as he can!”

And Felicity drove a little too fast the whole way, running more than a couple of red lights in her desperation. 

It wasn’t until she was trying to find a way into the abandoned building that she felt afraid. For the first time in six years, Oliver was making her nervous. It wasn’t the good, butterflies in her stomach, kind of sexy way, either.

When they first met, she’d always known that he would never hurt her, but he was also a lethal weapon with only his bare hands. That had been hard to ignore. She hadn’t felt those nerves around him in a very long time, but they were bubbling now.

Finally finding a door she could pull open, Felicity stepped into the dark warehouse. It was empty, but the silence was too tense...too quiet, and she could  _feel_ him. But she also knew that he wasn’t exactly  _him_...and that was what made her hands begin to shake as she stepped into the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

“Oliver...” she called out, her voice bouncing back at her in the vacant space, echoing. “Oliver...it’s me. Felicity?” She was half expecting to hear him laugh, rolling his eyes at her because  _of course_  he knew who she was. Instead she heard chains clanking together from one of the far corners, and she spun around towards it.

Oliver was up on one of the beams, his hood pulled back up over his head, but his body language was  _all_ wrong. He wrapped one of the chains around his arm and swung down, moving towards her.  _Stalking_ towards her.

Putting her hands in front of her, Felicity tried to smile. He was still her husband...she knew he’d remember that. Laurel had hallucinated seeing Sara, she’d seen the look in Laurel’s eye that night, how vivid the Vertigo-induced hallucinations could be. But she’d been able to fight through it, surely Oliver could too. “Hey,” she breathed, doing her best to sound calm, “Oliver.”

He stopped when she said his name, swinging his bow out to the side as he tilted her head towards her. That was good...right?

“It’s Felicity.” She said again, still feeling slightly strange, despite the craziness of everything  _actually_ happening, as she reminded her husband of who she was. “Your wife,” she cleared her throat nervously as his head tilted even more, “you need help, Oliver. I’m here so we can give it to you, so I can take you home.” His eyes were under the hood, but his jaw was tense. He was  _listening_...but he wasn’t himself.

She shivered, realizing that this must have been how criminals felt, six years ago, when they encountered The Hood. It was a bizarre energy that came off of him, unpredictable and wild, as if you couldn’t gauge how he felt or what he’d do...because maybe  _he_ didn’t even know yet. This was the side of himself that he was afraid of...the one who snapped necks first and asked questions later. The one who killed as a first resort, not a last...

Oliver stared at her for a moment, his eyes shadowed by the hood, his mouth a hard line. And then he slowly reached his arm back, pulling out an arrow.

She froze. “Adrian Chase...” he growled, “you have failed this city.”

Felicity’s eyes widened because...God,  _no_. This was very bad. He was hallucinating Adrian? He thought  _she_ was him? And he had an arrow pointed at her...

Her first thought was that once the Vertigo was out of his system, Oliver would never forgive himself. Her second thought was that this was  _really_ not how she wanted to die. That was what caused her panic, realizing that he wasn’t in control of himself, had no idea what he was even looking at, and it was possible. Neither of them had decided yet if he was about to shoot that arrow, though. But she knew better than he did that he’d be killing his own  _wife_ , and that was something he’d never be able to move passed, when he was himself again.

“Hey,” she pleaded again, raising her hands. The glint of his wedding band caught her attention. “Oliver,” she said, watching as his chin tilted towards her. He hesitated again when she said his name. So she did it again, sighing it one more time. The sound of her saying his name seemed to make him pause, so she went with it. “Look at your left hand. Your ring.”

She could see his jaw working, and even though his eyes were still covered, his face tilted, and she knew he was at least listening. “That’s your wedding ring.” She reminded him, slowly turning her hand over to show him her own, not wanting to move too quickly. He cocked his head to the side as he analyzed her. “And this is the one  _you_ gave me. I’m not Adrian Chase. You’re hallucinating, Oliver. Trust me. I can take care of you...I want to take you home, keep you safe. But you have to let me. I’m your  _wife_ , honey, not your enemy.”

His bow lowered slightly, and she stayed still but let out a breath of relief. And then a tranquilizer dart hit his neck from the sky window above them, and she knew Diggle was up there. But Oliver only had time to pull the dart out before he fell to the ground. 

 

* * *

 

“I can’t be with you. I can’t  _marry_ you.”

“Yes you can,” Oliver pleaded, stepping towards her in the alley behind Verdant, knowing that if he could just  _touch_ her... But Felicity shook her head, taking a step back and holding her hand up to stop him from coming any closer. He couldn’t blame quick decisions or tell himself that once she digested everything, she’d come back to him. The choice was clear in her voice, in her conviction. She knew how much he loved her, and it didn’t matter. Her mind was made up. “Things can be different,” he whispered anyway, “I can be different.”

She stared at him, and he could see the love she still had for him in her eyes, but he could also see her resolve. “No matter how much you love me,” she started, “there is always going to be a part of you that defaults to the man who was on the island. Alone. Who came back to save the city. Alone.”

“ _Was_ ,” he rasped, staring right into her eyes, not hiding anything. Because she was wrong. He knew she was wrong. “I’m not...I’m not on an island anymore. I’m not that man. Please, Felicity. I’m  _not_.”

“You are.” She nodded once, as much certainty in her voice as there was in his. “You are still that man. It’s who you’ve always been. And who you will always be. And sooner or later, someone will die. You survive...and everyone else around you, everyone you touch...they die. I can’t live like that, Oliver. I can’t die for your sins like your mother, or your father, or Tommy, Laurel, Shado and Yao Fei...”

“Felicity, you don’t mean that,” he shook his head, his vision blurring. “I would  _never_ let anything happen to you.”

“You already have! And you will again, Oliver. We were always doomed for one disaster or another. One of us was always going to end up breaking the other.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I  _do_ know that. And you know that.”

He inhaled sharply, “we decided a long time ago that we could do this.  _Together_... I love you. I don’t want to do this without you. I don’t think I ever could...I don’t want to let you go.”

“Things change, Oliver. I’m sorry...but I don’t want to be a woman that  _you_ love. I know you. You don’t give up, that’s what makes you a hero.” She ducked her head, forcing him to look at her. To hear her. “But there is  _no_ fixing this.” She said sharply, clearly.

And in the distorted moment, Felicity took his hand, squeezing it one last time before she slipped her engagement ring into his palm. 

He was too frozen to do anything but stare at her as she walked away from him, the weight of the ring; everything that should have been, and all of his mistakes...was a heavy feeling.

* * *

 

They had him on the couch in the loft, which she’d had to fight John tooth and nail to agree to. He was handcuffed and restrained, with Lyla, Curtis, Lance, and Dinah all hovering near William’s door where he slept. Dig stayed near Felicity, pretending to clean up the kitchen for the past hour where he could keep one eye on Felicity. 

Felicity sat on the floor in front of the couch, holding Oliver’s hands in her own. “I’m really going to need you to wake up soon,” she mumbled to him. “Because I can’t imagine how heavy your heart is right now. How alone you must feel in that wonderful heart of yours...”

She could feel John’s eyes on the back of her head. For an ex-soldier, he was barely even trying to be subtle about his hovering. And she knew he was listening, but she didn’t really care. “I wish that I could carry some of that burden for you,” she told her husband. “I know you’re strong. I  _know_ that, Oliver, and I love you so much for that strength...but I wish you didn’t always have to be.”

Oliver twitched, his head falling to the side and his eyebrows furrowing. John moved before Felicity could even release the breath that’d lodged itself in her throat. Dig stepped up behind her, both of them hesitating. 

John was afraid Oliver might wake up and become violent. Felicity was afraid he’d wake up and remember the things he’d said and done, and beat himself up over it as if it was his fault. God, he’d finally accepted that not every bad thing in the world was his doing somehow, and she was really hoping this wouldn’t change that. When he stilled again, she stared at him, relaxing and resting her chin on his hands, gripping them tightly in her own. 

Dig didn’t move, and Felicity’s shoulders stiffened. But she couldn’t look at him...at their partner who had abandoned Oliver. And her husband had let John go so  _easily_ , with a dejected sigh, telling him to do what he needed to do.

He didn’t need anyone in the field with him who didn’t want to be there. Who didn’t believe in him. But it made her blood boil to think that John now fell into the same sphere as Curtis, Dinah and Rene. 

Because the John Diggle she knew and loved would have never stooped that low. Ignoring him, she tried to focus on Oliver again. They were really just waiting for the drug to run its course. They’d tested the rest of his leathers and everything else in the bunker. Only his mask had been compromised. But no one had a clue as to how long it would take for the Vertigo to leave his system. 

“You don’t deserve this,” she shivered, laying her head on her husband’s hands as she considered the many, many,  _many_ painful moments in his life that could be haunting him. 

“You  _deserve_ to be surrounded by people who trust you...who love you. No matter what. I promise that will always be me, Oliver. And William. You have a family, you’re not alone,” she swallowed, “and you’re gonna need to wake up soon, because we need you.”

He jolted again, and Diggle’s hands fell to Felicity’s shoulders, as if he would pull her away at any moment. So she gripped Oliver tighter because  _hell no._

Oliver’s lips started to move, mumbling something, and she sat up on her knees to lean closer, to listen, ignoring Dig’s warning not to get too close. Her face was inches from his as she heard him mumble,  _“I don’t want to let you go.”_

Felicity stayed by his side all night, falling asleep for a few hours when he wasn’t restless. She made sure she was always touching him, so that when he woke up, she would wake up too. He jolted a few more times throughout the night, but never fully woke. 

Not yet. But she knew it was coming. 

He spoke more, too. And she’d answer him, unsure if he could hear her at all, but hoping that at least part of him could. That something inside of him knew she was there. She pushed his hair away from his face, stroked his cheek, placed her palm over his heart to feel how fast or slow it was beating...and because no matter what, it was  _hers_. Just like her heart would always be in his hands. 

She had no idea if her efforts to soothe his terrors were doing any good or not, but by mid-morning, with everyone busying themselves around their home, Felicity felt Oliver’s arms flex, making her jump. He pulled against the handcuffs, trying to get out of them. She turned for the coffee table, searching for the key to take them off. “Dig...” she mumbled, realizing that someone had picked it up. John’s eyes met hers, and he knew her well enough to know what she was asking. He kept his features stoic, giving a stern shake of his head that drove her crazy when Oliver pulled again, groaning as he tried to get free.

Felicity could only see the man she loved, who had spent far too much of his life being a prisoner. Diggle could only see the man he’d been last night, who had nearly put an arrow through his own wife’s chest.

Oliver’s eyes fluttered open, and they immediately landed on Felicity. His pupils were blown wide, his expression unreadable before settling on shock, and then confusion, and finally relief. “You’re alive.” He sighed, staring at her and not blinking. Not even once. He sat up, looking at her as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he was seeing a ghost, and it broke her heart.

“I’m alive,” she promised, squeezing his hands as he stopped fighting the metal cuffs. His eyes shifted between hers when he heard her voice, trying to piece something together in his mind. “I’m okay, Oliver,” she breathed, watching as his eyes slipped shut. She put her hands on the sides of his face, “how are you feeling?”

He took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly and leaning his cheek into her palm. “Like I could really use a nap.” She laughed once, and he looked up at her, his eyes narrowing, “with you.”

Her lips pulled up into a faint smile, because at least he wasn’t freaking out. And at least he wasn’t pushing her away. She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly, feeling how tired she was, too, from sitting on the floor all night. “I think we can make that happen.” She mumbled in his ear, closing her eyes.

Oliver cleared his throat, his shoulders tensing, and she knew he was probably noticing the crowd of people over her shoulder, hovering near the couch, no doubt. “Uh,” she felt him lift his chin, his cheek brushing her hair, “would someone mind taking these off so I can hug my wife?”

“Dad...” William spoke up, making Felicity pull back to look at her stepson, waving for him to come over. “You’re okay?” He asked his father as he stepped closer.

Oliver nodded, giving Oliver a reassuring smile. But Felicity’s heart clenched a little. She could tell that he remembered. And it was going to take a lot of talking and working through the past few days before he felt like himself again. He  _was_ himself again, but he now realized that he hadn’t been. Waking up handcuffed on the couch probably wasn’t helping. Felicity frowned, turning towards John, about to get snappy about that damn key. Her husband was clearly  _better_. 

Lyla came out of their bedroom before Felicity could say anything, her phone in one hand as her eyes shifted to Felicity, Oliver, and William, smiling slightly. Then she sidled up beside John and whispered in his ear. Dig sighed, his shoulders dropping and his head falling into his hands.

“What is it?” Felicity asked at the same time that Oliver whispered, “what’s wrong?”

Lyla hesitated, but when John didn’t move, she closed her eyes. “Diaz was working on a new strand of Vertigo...that’s what you destroyed. He was planning to disperse it over the town. Possibly in the water supply, taking a note from Count Vertigo... Theoretically, everyone in town could have become violent and unbalanced, before succumbing to hallucinations.”

“How do you know that?” Oliver asked.

Pursing her lips, Lyla looked at her husband again, who was staring down at his feet now. She gently took the key John was holding out of his hand, then she came over and uncuffed Oliver. “A.R.G.U.S has Black Siren. We questioned her.” She said once the cuffs were tossed aside.

Felicity raised an eyebrow, but kept her eyes on Oliver. He rubbed his wrists as he listened, his eyes shifting to Lance, who sat quietly beside William. Lance shook his head, unable to meet either Oliver or Felicity’s eyes. “I was wrong,” the man mumbled, and Felicity knew the self-blaming bug was going around.

She wasn’t sure how much of what had happened, what  _was_ happening, Oliver was really digesting, but he stayed silent, and she leaned over to kiss his shoulder before asking Lyla, “she told you all of that?” Lyla nodded. “Is Diaz making more? Is he trying to attack the city again?”

Lyla shook her head, “not as far as Black Siren knows. But...what she put on Oliver’s mask was a very concentrated strand of Vertigo. It was made for a fast effect; causing irritability and anger at first, emotional and psychological confusion, and then violent outbursts...hallucinations, all within a day or two. Basically, it was a ticking time bomb that they planned to unleash on Star City. This, if Diaz had poisoned people with this...they would have been killing each other in the streets. I can’t even imagine...”

“Are we sure that there’s none left?” Felicity sighed, putting her hand on Oliver’s leg, “it’s over now?” She asked skeptically, because Lyla and John were not acting like it was over, and everyone in the room seemed to be sensing it.

“They don’t have any more of the newest strand... Diaz was able to scrape up just one dose from the factory you guys took down. Black Siren helped him use it on Oliver.”

As she bit her lip, Lyla looked at Diggle, shaking her head. “There was a different strand...before. One that was much slower. Black Siren said that they still have it. Diaz was experimenting with it, trying to create the drug he ultimately gave to Oliver.” 

Felicity and Oliver both glanced at Quentin again, because either Black Siren was not as tough as she acted, or Lyla had done some damage to make her sing like the canary that she  _wasn’t_.

Lance’s eyes were glazed over, like he didn’t want to think too hard about the information or where they’d gotten it from,  _how_ they’d gotten it.

“What do you mean by slower?” Felicity asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

Lyla sighed, “I mean, it’s the same drug. Irrationality. Short temper. Lashing out. Everything you noticed in Oliver at first, but...the process is slower, building up over time. It only takes a few doses, and the effects will last for months.”

Felicity’s eyes flew to John. “You said Diaz was experimenting...” she whispered, her heart sinking to the floor. “On John?”

Every eye in the room darted to Dig, who rubbed his hands together, squeezing them as if he was remembering the damage he’d thought was so bad he had to turn to a drug dealer. Her friend nodded, and a new wave of guilt washed over her. “Wait,” she mumbled, shaking her head, “but John hasn’t been hallucinating...wouldn’t that have come by now if Diaz was drugging him?”

“He might have,” Oliver finally spoke up, keeping his eyes on Diggle. “It was nightmares at first, which, isn’t all that unusual for us.” He glanced down at Felicity, his eyebrows furrowing as he reached up and ran his thumb over her cheek, “but then there were these really realistic moments. I was  _there,_ but some of what was happening...it wasn’t really happening.”

“Like seeing Laurel in the warehouse?” Curtis asked. “When we said we saw Black Siren...you were surprised. Because you had seen a different Laurel. But...it still  _happened_...” Oliver nodded, and Felicity thought about their conversations, where he’d been right there with her, answering her, but hearing different things. When he literally couldn’t  _see_ the ring on her finger.

Curtis released a long whistle, “that sounds trippy. At least Star City didn’t become that town in  _The Crazies_ , but obviously what’s happening to Dig is bad-very bad.” He pursed his lips, stopping himself.

Felicity glanced around at the team, her eyes lingering on John as she felt pity and dread, having no idea where to even start to fix what Diaz had done to their friend. Her eyes settled on Oliver, “okay,” she finally said, cutting through the silence, looking at him but talking to everyone. “We’re all here...so what do we do next?”


End file.
